In that way, I don't understand myself. It might have to do with my own conflicts, where to place my body as a child, which I have carried over to now. In this way I'm constantly dislocated.

What happens when a female writer invokes a female muse? Does something else happen? With Sappho's figures of desire, we have a different lesbian energy.

Agency over one's sexual self - and the articulation of that kind of agency - might seem transgressive to readers who don't expect it in a woman's text.

My brothers were my peers, but they were not the preeminent male figures in my emotional life.

Working women went through a time when they believed that.

Heterosexuality - whichever gender you are - says that the other gender is very important to you.

I had a couple of Asian readers and other folks tell me, "Oh, you have a lot of sex in your writing."